


Broken

by LilliasCraven



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M, whouffle
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-07-18
Updated: 2013-07-18
Packaged: 2017-12-20 14:55:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/888581
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LilliasCraven/pseuds/LilliasCraven
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post-Trenzalore, Post 50th Anniversary (speculative)<br/>The one person the Doctor couldn't save was the one to save him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is crossposted on FanFiction.net. Reviews are appreciated!

His impossible girl's broken body felt weightless in his arms.

He'd thought they were free. He'd thought he could just turn his back on his darker self, the one who broke the promise. He was wrong.

So much loss...even the joy of seeing Rose again could not heal the pain of all the loss. There was a reason he should never have jumped into his timestream, he should never have met his previous incarnations. They'd all fought and run together, even his beautiful, brave, broken Clara...

She'd collapsed again, just as victory seemed to be upon them. She'd been too weakened by her splintering amongst his timelines, this final battle had been too much.

And he was broken, too. The paradox of jumping into his timestream was tearing his cells apart, and he no longer had the strength to stop it. Two hearts meant twice the capacity to love, and twice the heartbreak.

The Doctor dimly felt himself falling to his knees on his grave at Trenzalore. He could not find it in himself to care. He'd promised to bring Clara back...he could no longer even cry.

Ignoring the fires building in his blood, he clutched his impossible girl to his chest, pressing his lips to her lifeless lips. Nothing could hurt her now. Nothing...

...and then the fires overcame him, and he knew nothing else...

The Doctor came to his senses slowly. He was lying on his back, and gradually recognized the ceiling as the engorged TARDIS that was his grave. Rage and disappointment flooded into him - what more did he have to do to finally rest?

He gradually became aware of a warm weight draped across his chest, a weight buried beneath a wealth of chestnut hair. Unwillingly his hand came up to brush the hair out of her face.

"Doc...tor..?" whispered a voice he never thought he'd hear again.

The Doctor closed his eyes, unwilling to let himself believe.

A trembling, tiny hand touched his chin.

"You look the same..." came that confused, tired voice. "All your other faces were diff'rent..."


	2. Chapter 2

"Do not attempt to escape from your bed, Sir!"

When the Doctor next properly awoke, he immediately became aware of three things. One, he was lying in a bed. Two, the bed appeared to be in the Tardis sickbay. Three, there was a very small, very warm body pressed next to his.

He immediately tried to flail himself away from her and succeeded only in falling back against the pillow.

"Sir, I must insist you resume your tactical position!" Strax's face suddenly swam into focus, oddly at the Doctor's eye level. I'm short now! No, wait, he was lying down. Yes, that made sense. Wait…

"Straxy…" The Doctor cleared his throat. It felt like he hadn't spoken in a very long time. "How…what?" He tried to frame an intelligent question. It was harder than it should be.

A rustle of cloth drew his attention to his feet. Why was Vastra's voice coming from his feet? No, the foot of the bed. Yes, beds were good.

"We didn't know what to do when you came out of the…lightweb," Vastra explained, trying to find a suitable euphemism for the Doctor's final resting place. "We brought you back here to rest. Both of you," she added significantly.

Both of us? Yes, both. Warm body. "Cla..ra..?" he choked out, trying to shift around to look at her. A heavy hand pressed him back into the pillows.

"We did, of course, attempt to put you in separate beds," came Vastra's dry voice. "But it seemed to cause you both considerable distress." He pictured her non-existent eyebrows raised, and realized his vision was beginning to clear.

"You threw such a fit we thought you was havin' a seizure!" came Jenny's helpful voice. She sounded delighted at the thought.

The Doctor craned his head around to see the headboard, and realized two hospital cots had been shoved together. The movement drew a murmur of protest from the unconscious woman curled up beside him. The impossibility curled against him like a cat. He couldn't think about that yet.

Wait.

"Face?" he asked, rubbing his shaking hand over his features. "What face?" Jenny and Vastra exchanged a confused look. "What face?" he asked a bit more urgently.

"There's nothin' wrong with yer face, sir, see!" Jenny brought over a small mirror. The Doctor didn't remember ever seeing a mirror in Sickbay before.

What?

It made no sense. He was the same. Eyes, the chin, all of it. Except…what happened to…

"My hair?"


	3. Resolve

The next time the Doctor woke up he was immediately aware of three things: his head had cleared considerably, Clara was no longer beside him, and all hell was breaking loose.

By all the running about and shouting the Doctor quickly surmised that Clara was not only absent, but apparently missing, and the TARDIS was being uncooperative in the search, making each corridor lead back to Sickbay. She was also shaking and rattling at random moments, apparently to add to the excitement.

Good old Sexy.

With all the commotion, absolutely nobody was paying attention to the Doctor's attempts to extricate himself from the bed sheets. Strax had learned to swaddle, it seemed. At last with a flourish he managed to free himself, and flung himself from the bed, flailing his arms for balance – *huh*. He realized it was absolutely unnecessary, as his balance was remarkably improved. *That's new.*

The Doctor made it to his bedroom with a minimum of fuss. The TARDIS was at least on his side today. After a much needed shower and change of clothing he felt much more himself again, though it would take him a while to get used to his new haircut. He hadn't felt so exposed since the days he wore black leather…

Reveling in his newfound coordination, he immediately headed for the Console. It was time, and past time, to leave Trenzalore.

 

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It was in the kitchen, of course, that the Doctor finally found Clara. She was sitting curled up on the floor under the counter, and seemed dazed.

"Clara." She flinched from the sound of his voice. It wasn't until he crouched down to her level that he realized her face was stained with silent tears.

"O Clara," he said again, reaching out to touch her cheek. She stared at him blankly for a moment. Abruptly with a strangled sob she threw her arms about his neck, weeping so hard the sobs wracked her entire body.

The Doctor froze for a moment, then gently, almost shyly wrapped her in his arms. He stroked her back, her hair, anything to stop the storm.

She clung to him, like a lifeline, how long he couldn't be sure. Minutes? Hours? Her breathing finally slowed, her tense little body eased, and she fell asleep still in his arms.

So strange. He'd held her before, nothing had changed, yet everything now was so very, very different...


End file.
